Fairy Dust and Starbucks Cups
by Namida-sama
Summary: Hikari is stuck in a rut. Working long hours at a tiny florist, hoping to save enough to go to college one day and earning just enough to pay the rent is wearing her down. Walking home one rainy night, she stops for shelter in a little cafe, and meets the Wizard, who shows her that magic is indeed real. It is all around her, and very little of it is the good kind...
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Misfortune

I do not own Harvest moon or Starbucks coffee.

A rewrite of my first (noteworthy) fanfiction, Fairy Dust and Starbucks Cups.

Should I leave the other version up or something? I don't have the files anymore, so if I take it down, it's a bit of a waste...

Thanks for your support, readers.

* * *

It was raining rather heavily the night Hikari's life changed, the frigid sort of early-spring downpour that had an aftermath of cold, clammy dampness that lasted for days. It had glazed over the persistent patches of ice from what was hopefully the last cold snap of the dying winter and had accounted for more than one embarrassing accident on her part. That very day she had dropped an entire carton of eggs in a particularly nasty fall coming back from the supermarket, and had bruised her hip badly. She quite hated winter, really, especially when it was just segueing into spring.

Hikari had forgotten her umbrella (which was broken, anyway) inside the back greenhouse of the florist's where she worked. She hadn't foreseen the bad weather, and was equipped with only a thin trenchcoat (strictly pretty, not practical) to ward off the heavy shower.

It had really started coming down halfway to her little flat, beating on the slick cobblestone streets and flowing along the curbs in miniature floods to the storm-drains.

It was rather late; the warm, pools of light shining through the restaurants' windows and doors had blinked out one by one as she passed through the narrow streets, guided by the flickering, streetlights. A chill wind had started up, lifting the sheeting rain to splatter in her face, semi-solid pellets of water against her icy cheeks.

Maybe she'd call Kathy or Luna... They could give her a ride.

She tried her mediocre cellphone; no reception. And on its last bar of battery, probably just to spite her. _Oh, karma_. Although… Hikari couldn't really recall anything malicious that she'd done recently…

Stupid, _stupid_, cheap, unreliable piece of crap it was.

Hikari kept her head down, but the wet permeated her hair, slicked down its warm brown waves and glued them to her visage, the tips dripping ice into the warm, if damp, safety of her coat.

The wind picked up again, gusting the rain into her face, and Hikari squinted through it, staggering again on the cobblestone. She passed A pub, spewing its merry noise into the night, and winced as a round of raucous laughter and the loud, splintering crash of dropped glass exploded from the propped-open doorway.

Hikari hurried past. She was sure there was a nice, quiet cafe around here somewhere, one that had a reliable phone and maybe some hot chocolate... She shivered.

Eventually, she made a detour into a modest coffee shop nestled between another bar and a trendy yoga studio by the pier, both dark. Torn Posters and advertisements were taped to the window in layers, looking almost as though someone had tried to tear them off at one point and just given up. They were soaked and ragged, flapping in the wind, pictures warping and distorting as the ink ran under the bullet-fire of the rain.

Hikari peered in the door. There was no closed or open sign, no list of hours, just a hand-drawn sign promoting fortunetelling (_see within for details)_.

It was almost totally black inside, the kind of dark that seems like a wall, save for a fuzzy, faint glow reflecting off a wall leading into a back room that was almost certainly a candle. Hikari stood under the overhang of the cafe, absently running her fingers along the doorknob before she gathered up her courage and turned it, and finding it unlocked, ventured into the dark. it smelt of coffee; the rich, dark smell of fresh-ground beans. Specifically, Starbucks brand.

"Hello?" She felt along the plastery wall, mindful of the old, creaking hardwood and her dripping clothes, looking for a lightswitch. Her boots were so Heavy against the floor, clunky and awkward.

She touched familiar plastic, and flicked it on, waiting for warm light and seeing only continuous, darkness. No power. Sighing deeply, she flipped open her phone and set the brightness to full, scanning the room with its dim, supplicating halo.

Hikari stood in the square patch of light the streetlights were throwing in through the lone window, studying the barely-there shadows the rain made and the larger, semi-transparent poster-shadows.

She walked toward the back room, trying every lightswitch she could feel until she reached the faint glimmer, using the too-white glow of her dying cellphone to light the way. After what felt like hours of stubbing her toes (which were now throbbing) on the legs of ottomans, armchairs, and table-chair sets, she rounded the corner and found the candle.

It was sitting on a modern-looking dark wooden table, fat in circumference and three-quarters melted, the runny wax pooling around the blackened wick and flowing over the side onto a small plate. It flickered as she approached, darkening the figure sitting at the table for a split second. It was a man resting his head on his arms, an unlawfully-thick book resting in front of him, obviously asleep. A cup of stale, cold coffee sat fermenting next to the candle and a spent flashlight lay on its side near the table's edge.

Hikari tried whispering, poking gently at his forearm.

"...Hey... Could I use your phone?"

Tugging at the jacket, she repeated herself until he raised his arm and waved her off, yawning.

"...We're closed."

Hiker couldn't really tell in the candlelight, but his hair appeared to be very light in colour, almost silvery, contrasting as sharply with his tanned skin as the stark-white tattoo below his right eye.

Hikari could only stare into his eyes, unsure of what to say. They were very interesting eyes, by far the most intense case of heterochromia she had ever seen.

Light eyes weren't typically a feature she observed on darker-skinned people, and heterochromia was even less common. But this man had both. She peered closer at them, trying to discern the colour from the flickering orange of candlelight reflecting off their surface. He stared back calmly, visibly unfazed.

The right was morning-sunrise yellow, so bright that it couldn't possibly be natural. The left was bottle-green, deep and mysterious as the sea she so often found green bottles in.

Contacts for sure, but why would someone purchase two sets of coloured contacts just to wear one of each colour? Unless... he was a weirdo, and this was one of those occult-subculture cafes.

Hikari swallowed thickly, uncertain and frightened.

"Um... I'm sorry for intruding, but your door was unlocked..."

He nodded benignly. She flushed and looked away, studying the wall before letting her next sentence escape the safety of her brain.

"Do you have a phone I could use? My cell has no reception here..." Hikari trailed off, making a conscious effort to not ramble.

"Behind the bar."

He stood up to his full height, which was a few inches taller than hikari and led the way, balancing the plate with the candle on his palm.

She dialed Luna first and listened grimly to the four rings, and then to the cheerful answering message, punctuated toward the end with her sister Candace sneezing and a lot of muffled yelling.

Kathy's was similar.

Turning around, she grunted in surprise at the man, who had silently appeared beside her holding two mugs and a towel.

"...You don't want your... fortune or anything?" he was bent over at the fireplace, trying to pack in more flyers (which looked suspiciously like kin of the posters taped to the windows) while she sat in an armchair, sipping her drink. Hikari relished the warmth of the hot cocoa (it was homemade, which shocked her) as it slipped down her throat, resisting a small smile as it heated her stomach as well.

He got the fire started and stood back up, gazing questioningly at her.

She must've made a face, a grimace, because he sat in the armchair across from her and laced his fingers together, sighing.

"...You don't believe me." his voice was unbothered, resigned to the fact-of-life that was skeptics.

"I'm sorry... I can't." She was avoiding his eyes again, ashamed of her human nature, embarrassed with her inability to be polite.

"Magic... exists." he said it placidly, as if he was remarking on a topic no more relevant than the weather.

And suddenly, he raised his index finger, drew it across his palm sharply, and produced a flame, like a match.

"And I am... the Wizard."

Hikari's eyes were huge, and she was barely able to debunk the phenomenon as sleight-of-hand. She told him such, and he stood casually, pointing at her with the aflame finger.

There was no hidden match. The flame was burning a hairsbreadth from the skin of his finger, as if his fingernail was the match itself.

Hiker gasped and the Wizard waved his finger, extinguishing it.

"Doesn't that... hurt?" her voice was small, and she cursed it for its sudden childishness.

He drank deeply from his mug before replying.

"...Not...really."

"How far is Cherry Street from here?" Hikari fidgeted, having finished her drink. Wizard appeared to be nodding off in his chair.

"...Ten minutes. The rain... It's almost... stopped."

"Okay. Thank you very much. I'm sorry to bother you this late..."

He saw her to the door with an umbrella, in case the rain really hadn't let up that much.

* * *

This chapter is one of my bigger ones. I can't write long chapters well. I always feel like they're going to be rambly.

Trying to stick to the original plot with some improvements and better writing. This version is less light, less centered on cuteness and more plot-driven (mostly because it actually HAS a plot this time around...).

See you next chapter. Tell me your thoughts. I love seeing your reactions and interpretations


	2. Chapter 2

Fairy Dust and Starbucks Cups 2

I do not own Harvest Moon, Starbucks, or any related characters, terms or locations.

Thanks for your reviews, alerts and favourites, everyone!

MorWolfMor: I think there are three types of Fanfiction authors: the type that writes purely for the sake of manipulating the plot and characters, those who focus more on the writing rather than the plot, and those who focus on both. I am the second type. I don't know if that's a good thing, but I'm glad you're enjoying it!

* * *

She kept the umbrella with her the entire walk, even though the rain had cleared up, as if it served to remind her that the little encounter with the magic man (who might've been On something) wasn't just another one of her crazy dreams. They always started off like that, as a perfectly normal scene or occurrence that took a turn for the fantastic and ended up completely bizarre.

She plucked her key from her pocket, clutching it to her coat with damp, frozen fingers. Lint stuck like mold to the cool, moist brass.

The greenhouse was sultry and humid, even in the chilly spring, and she welcomed it. Clumps of Black dirt were scattered amongst the rows of damp concrete and various hoses, gardening mats, and bits of wire. Hikari inhaled deeply, taking the green, wet smell of living things, dampness, rich soil and the too-sweet smell of rot into her lungs.

The first early pansy seedlings had been started in little terra-cotta-coloured pots, the first little green sprouts curling up from the dirt.

The greenhouse was pure peace.

Something was eating at the Wizard. It had nestled in some crevice of his brain, and had burrowed its way in, reminding him that he had forgotten something. That something was out of his reach and driving him crazy, making him sweat and worry.

He wracked his brain over his morning coffee, but was by a vibration in his jacket pocket.

His godforsaken cellphone was humming and buzzing like an irritated bee, _H.G_ flashing urgently against the blue panel. He flipped it open, read the text.

_How'd it go? :) ;)))_

That looked rather awkward. He cringed and thought of replies before beginning to type.

The Harvest Goddess made consistent and liberal use of emoticons in her texts, an annoyance. They were often poorly selected and seemed out of place, but the goddess delighted in using all the features on the phone her clever little humans had made.

_Successfully. _

It was safe, a little boring perhaps, but he tended to be short and precise in his texts, unlike Witch, who loved to forward him spam just for the fun of it.

A text from the Harvest God appeared immediately after, reminding him of a meeting he had that day.

That was what had been chewing on his mind all morning: He had a meeting with the Association. The odd feeling left at once, with a gust of relief in its wake. It was still an odd sensation to forget things, after remaining on earth for so many lifespans, remembering mostly everything that happened to him. It bothered him, put a heavy stone in his throat that lasted for days if he couldn't remember quickly.

Why had he shown that young thing from last night that easy little trick?

Even though it was small and stupidly simple, it had been _real_, bona fide magic, and she was probably going to call the police and report him for drugging her or something. Had hundreds of years of life taught him no tact?

Modern (sober) folks typically didn't experience magic in their daily lives. He was still kicking himself for it.

He gulped down his coffee on his way out, feeling it burn a slow slide of fire down his throat. Wizard grimaced, throwing on a concealing charm that dirtied the colour of his hair and eyes to nondescript brown.

Outside, the rain had started up again with grim zeal, drumming on the roof of the little café that never opened.

Witch was already in the lobby of the Magistrate Hotel by the time he pushed through the revolving doors, lounging about in a teal armchair.

She had swung her long legs over the arms of the chair, crossed her ankles, and was clicking the heels of her thigh-high black boots together, letting them drip on the floor. A short pinstripe skirt bared a two-inch stripe of pale leg, and the rest of her was engulfed in dove-gray satin.

She wore no concealment, opting to let her long gossamer hair rage around her in waterfalls.

What human really had that hair colour? She even had the boldness to wear a headband with a lacy little witch's hat on it.

Wizard was still surprised she'd escaped being burnt at the stake way back when. She was so very Obvious.

"If it isn't Wizard!"

The grin she kept plastered on her face had gone from hungry-dog to hunting-alligator. He kept his head down and only looked up when she moved to block his way. The fountain rushed behind him, glimmered in the late-morning light from the windows. Coins glittered, ethereal in bronze and silver at the blue-gray bottom of their little lake.

"It's very rude to ignore a lady, you know."

She made to continue her sentence, but shut her mouth, waiting for a better opportunity to embarrass him.

Wizard sighed through his nose and continued down the hall. Witch fell into step beside him, and he focused on the steady clop of her heeled boots on the immaculate tile and the fading rushing melody of the lobby fountain instead of her voice, which seemed to be extra-annoying that morning.

They came to a room, knocked, entered. In the hall, a whiteboard with a fluorescent-green arrow pointed helpfully to the door let them know that this room was the location of the _MASCA meeting, 10:00-11:30 A.M. _

The harvest god gave them a stern look as they entered, but the Goddess beamed. The room was plain; nondescript beige walls with white trim, a long table surrounded with standard-issue office chairs. There was only the four of them; it was a senior meeting and none of the Harvest Sprites or lesser beings were present.

Witch produced a bag of pretzels and began to munch on them as the meeting of the Magical and Spiritual Creatures Association commenced.

Somehow, he just knew those pretzels would end up in his hair by the end of the morning.

* * *

Surprise! Nothing big really happens except basic introductions and easing very slowly into the plot. Another short chapter… the surprise two-shot I shall be posting sooner or later will be nice and long, I promise.

I wasn't sure about Wizzy in this chapter. I wanted to portray him as I see him: shy, sort of mild and a bit awkward but sweet. Somebody who's innately intelligent but puts up with being picked on. I wanted to give him _personality_ here, you know?

Some chapters are easy to write, but this one was like making a new friend- slow and awkward. Wish I could just bang out chapters and finish some of these stories up.


	3. Chapter 3

Fairy Dust and Starbucks Cups Chapter 3

I do not own Harvest Moon or Starbucks Coffee of any related terms, products or characters.

Hello all. Back beating up my keyboard to bring you another late installment of Fairy Dust and Starbucks cups. Again, sorry for the lateness and shortness etc.

Enjoy, and thanks for your support.

* * *

Sometimes Hikari just liked to sit in a corner of the greenhouse, squat amongst the rows of sprouts and stacks of pots and piled bags of black soil and stare out at the town from the fogged windows.

She breathed in a fresh load of crisp march air, exhaled a faint white cloud that beaded more moisture on her woolly scarf. She clutched at her mug, filled with weak, cheap coffee and tried to feel the warmth through her flimsy garden gloves. Dirt had found its way in though the pores in the rubber-fabric, and had packed in the finger-tubes, hard, cold clumps that dusted her hands with silt when she removed them from her hands.

She spent her break watching factories and businesses billow pale morning steam from their smokestacks and air vents.

The shop itself was tiny, mazelike especially in the warm months with displays and arrangements of bright flowers.

Narrow rows of polished glass baubles amid the myriad flora segmented the shop, wall upon wall of old, blue-tinted refrigerator-display cases, their humming and buzzing an annoying orchestra.

The floor was tile, half-covered with rubber mats never free of spilled soil and water. The manager kept several clear vases of water in various shapes around the cash desk, each containing only a single fish. The one left of the register was a goldfish named Cecil, and a guppy, Frederick, swam listlessly in the weak not-quite-noon sunbeams on the windowsill across from a row of orchids.

Her breaktime expired; Hikari resumed standing behind the counter in her green linen apron, waiting like some sort of flytrap for customers to wander in. The day was going to presumably be incredibly boring, another piece of daily life she'd rather skip.

The Harvest King had taken to standing at the head of the meeting-table like some sort of bodyguard as the assembled magical beings spoke closely amongst themselves like wary birds. Rarely did he open his mouth at all; almost never did anyone address him directly.

The Harvest Goddess coughed behind a pale, slender hand, a pathetic, miserable sound webbed with mucous and phlegm. Her breathing was harsh, rattled deep in her chest.

It was no ordinary human's cold. The Harvest Goddess was plenty elderly, having lived through most of creation. It was simply that her power was running thin, the sacred marsh in which she kept her tree plowed down for development land. Saving that tree and replanting it had been a huge drain on her magic, and losing the pond that had been her home for so long hadn't helped.

Still, even though her condition was obviously poor, the Goddess was still effervescently cheerful, even as her giggles turned into gasping coughs and the vital blush drained from her cheeks.

The Harvest King held no expression.

Witch looked on the verge of sleep, lazily circling chunks of text on a piece of paper she had picked off the floor with an obnoxiously yellow highlighter.

Wizard himself had been messing around with a formula in his head, the proper ratio of this herb to that powder for an even consistency in headache potions. He wasn't often bored, what with all his books and research projects, but this meeting seemed to be dissolving his brain in tedium. He already knew what was going to happen, even without having to see into his crystal ball.

The meeting that day was really about finding a cure, or in the worse-case scenario, someone to inherit her ability.

The Harvest king had contributed nothing. Wizard didn't quite know what to make, since his power was directly dependent on the Goddess's. It worried him slightly…why wouldn't he want her to get well? Wizard couldn't read him and truthfully wasn't sure if he really wanted to.

And suddenly, he knew it, like a bolt of lightning down a metal pole. What if they could find someone with the innate purity and affinity for nature to nurse the plant back to health? Wouldn't that- by extension- improve her health too? But it seemed like such a foolish idea- Wizard had long ago learned not to trust people. What could they do? They were living one day, dead the next like a breath of wind. And so fragile! He kept his mouth shut and waited until the assembly passed him over in favor of the Harvest King. But his mind was working away, picking at the problem and trying to adapt his solution to fit it. Wizard was so busy contemplating that he hardly minded when Witch succeeded in firing a pretzel down the back of his shirt. He could see her raise her hand in a victory salute out of the corner of his eye, but for once didn't care. There were much bigger things to worry about.

Hikari shoved her empty thermos into her purse, and wedged the spare umbrella around it, preparing to leave. It had been a slow day again, only ten or so customers and a few arrangement orders. Her boss hadn't showed up at all, and neither had any of her co-workers.

She was apprehensive about going back to the secluded little coffee shop, and meeting that creepy magician-guy again. She took extra time inspecting the flowers, wiping up every molecule of water and spilt soil on the countertops, locking up with extra care, before throwing on her coat (still damp from the day before, despite having spent the night draped over the radiator) and heading out into the gray-orange twilight.

It was misty and nippy out again, but her drumming heart kept her sweating as she tried to recall the path to the little shop. Hikari really had no desire whatsoever to go back there. She felt like it was a place in which went on things she would rather not be involved in.

She eventually found it, recalling the boisterous bars and pubs surrounding the place, and walked up, intending to just drop the umbrella in the mailbox or leave it leaning against the door. The windows were dark, the curtains drawn, and the small coffee shop seemed devoid of presence.

Hikari pulled it from her purse and had pried the old brass lid of the mailbox up, when the door opened like the mouth of some terrible beast and a hand shot out and tightly grabbed hold of her wrist. Hikari couldn't make out the figure in the gloom.

Surprised, she gasped loudly, dropping her purse, and prepared to scream when another hand caught her coat and yanked her inside the dark entranceway.

* * *

These next chapters really aren't as dark as they seem here. They're pretty vital, and they're in Wizard's and Witch's perspectives! I love writing about them… Been stuck on a few writing projects lately, but I've also been forcing myself to write a bit. It's not very productive to just sit and wait for inspiration to just come jogging up the street and bump into you.

Thanks for your support as always.


	4. Chapter 4

Fairy Dust and Starbucks Cups

Chapter 4

I've tried to make the transitions between scenes smoother, but I just can't find a way that flows naturally. But thank you very much for the advice. I ALWAYS need advice, criticism, etc.

My new year's resolution is to write at least 500 words/day so I can update more. I'll never get anything done if I sit around and wait for inspiration to strike. Got a twoshot almost ready to put up. It features the extremely under-appreciated Amir!

* * *

Hikari shrieked, then couldn't breathe for a minute, her heart thudding double-time and adrenaline coursing. She felt her legs tremble and give out, and she slid to the floor in the coal-blackness. A hand, warm and sweat-salty shot up from its grip on her coat and felt its way to her mouth, muffling her.

She heard several footsteps, heels clacking smartly on hardwood, and a chorus of rustling clothing, noise from moving chains.

Her captor unwound its grip from her waist, half-stepped back, but kept the hand over her mouth.

Hikari heard the lock click on the door, and dimly, a light flicked on in the distance.

"Is it her?" A soft voice, distinctly feminine, called from a ways off.

Hikari's mouth went dry, and she felt her face heat, sweat building on the back of her neck.

She saw dimly a figure in an armchair across the room, in the coffee shop that was never open.

The dim light reflected silver off the lady's hair, but her face was shaded in the gloom and her clothes were dark.

"Why are the lights off, anyway, Wizard? Couldn't you have just sat her down and talked it over with her?"

"Then… turn on the lights and do it… yourself." A much quieter, smoother voice, deep in the darkness, sounded from above her. She could feel the vibrations in her captor's chest. "It was halfway your plan, anyway…"

Hikari's captor released her and mumbled something quiet in reply.

She heard more clicking footsteps, and the lights came on all at once, burning bright.

Hikari was blind for a moment, then saw the weird man from the other night looking down at her with a nonchalant expression, as if he hadn't just attempted to abduct her. He was wearing the same purple overcoat with the weird patterns from the other night. Chains and crystals on woven strings, charms from every culture hung suspended over his chest, clicking together as he moved.

The lady leaning on the wall opposite them was glaring, irate, at the Wizard, hands on her hips in a childishly irritated pose. No one seemed to know what to say.

"Have a seat." Wizard's voice sounded from above her, deep and resounding, and she stood up on mechanically shaky legs and hoisted herself onto a couch.

The lady with the white hair sat across from her, slim and pale in her dark clothes, and the Wizard took his place in a dusty aqua-blue armchair in between them.

"We're really not bad people... We don't usually kidnap, I swear." The lady seemed to struggle for words, to further her defence, but gave up.

"You can call me Witch."

Hilarious glanced at her. "You have a real name?"

"Witch." She repeated, her smile having hardened slightly.

"We're here today because Wizard here is too damn pathetic to just sit someone down and talk to them about what we do." She tossed another withering look at him, to which he sighed, exasperated.

"So, normally, we're pretty safe 'cause no one really believes that we're actually magical, but we have a bit of a situation that we need your help with. Y'see, we work for an organization called MASCA, and we think that there are some rather… _funny _goings-on that need inspection. "

Witch drummed her plum-painted fingertips on her crossed legs and smiled slightly, picking at a loose grey thread on her leggings.

Wizard rolled his eyes.

"Couldn't you get someone else? I-is this even legal?" Hikari glanced at the door, and back at the pair. She felt like crying, her hands trembling. She tucked them in her sleeves.

"I mean, did it have to be… me? I don't have any special skills, and I'm not, um, wanted for anything. Y'know, by the cops?"

She had gone hot, and her palms were sweaty. She knew that Wizard was suspicious. She should've kept the damn umbrella.

Hikari's gaze dropped to her lap. The Witch's beastlike yellow-orange eyes held their stare.

"We think that... based on your qualities and talents... You would be best for this task..." Wizard spoke in his usual somber way, glancing out the window at the dusk sky.

"You work with plants...?"

Hikari nodded, hesitant.

"We can't tell you much, but... We need you to help a certain... tree..."

His deep voice trailed off at the end of his sentence, as if he was almost embarrassed to finish the thought.

They had abducted her for the sake of a_ tree_? Just a tree? No drugs, no murder, no illegal trading of goods, just a plant.

Was it a _drug_ tree? An illegal plant?

Witch had begun glaring at him again with her unnatural yellow-orange eyes, and crossed her arms over her chest.

"I wanted to tell it, idiot! Hurry and get it over with before we have to wipe her mind." Witch's scowl deepened and she tossed her long cobweb hair.

"We... can't tell you too much... It'd be unwise to refuse, as Witch said... We're not supposed to exist. And you're not supposed to know about us..." The Wizard took up the explaining, folding his long hands casually over his knees. A coffee cup Hikari hadn't noticed before sat abandoned on a side-table, ghosts of vapour curling off and dissolving in the chilly, dim room.

His odd-eyed stare somehow made her self-conscious, so she avoided eye contact, floundering about in her thoughts. How much memory would they wipe? Would she be able to go in living normally? Would it simply be a matter of forgetting the whole 'magic' incident?

"Oh, no. If we did it like that, you'd have nothing to lose. Why would you help us if you didn't have a motive? If you refuse, we'll remove every memory since you were fifteen years of age. You won't remember the location of your home, your job, how to drive... I suggest you work with us, dear." Witch piped up, false cheer in her voice. Was it just a lucky guess or had the mysterious pair been monitoring her thoughts the whole time? Hikari wasn't sure that her skepticism of magic could survive around these freaks.

"A pure soul like yours is a rare thing. Shame to see it go to such a waste… A great witch like me, I could put it to good use. How 'bout it? You should feel _honoured_ that we're even offering such an opportunity!" The witch had leaned forward, supporting her elbows on her knees.

Wizard was watching her still, having remembered the coffee that had presumably been sitting there since the threesome sat down. She felt a pounding begin in her head, a newborn headache blooming in her temples.

He swallowed, placed the cup back on the table with a heavy, final thunk of porcelain.

Dry-throated, the pressure weighed on Hikari as she thought. Those were some of the most important years of her life, the establishment of her career, her schooling, her family memories, her old friends... It was a lot of history to lose.

"I guess... so. I'll do it."

"You'll do it?" The wizard had closed his eyes, and it seemed oddly final to her.

"Yeah... uh...yes. I agree."

"Excellent! Now we can talk business..."

Hikari blinked, her head suddenly feeling much clearer, almost free of the fuzzy, muddled pain she'd been experiencing earlier. Was it just the relief of the close of the stressful situation, or had they been influencing her? She had no idea what the two were capable of, or what their little organization was up against.

* * *

I have the next chapter mostly done. I wanted to make Hikari relatively normal without being an airhead or a Mary-Sue, but I still feel like I fell a bit short. Having never been in a situation like this, I find it (naturally) rather difficult to portray.

Been reading quite a bit of Cormac McCarthy's work lately. Violent. Highly recommended though, if you don't mind that sort of thing.

Thanks as always for your critique and support!


	5. Chapter 5

Fairy Dust and Starbucks Cups 5

I don't own Harvest Moon or Starbucks Coffee

* * *

There wasn't any more to be had, even after an hour of struggling with the tangled dream-threads. He couldn't access it. The future of that round-faced young 'hero' girl was blurry, fuzzy as a teenage summer memory. Such complications _usually_ simply worked themselves out, nine times out of ten, with no assistance on his part. His head hurt extravagantly.

He took his fingertips off the warm glassy surface of his crystal ball and grabbed a scrap of paper from the table, producing an abused and ink-stained ballpoint pen from a discreet drawer in the table.

He drew a quick flow chart that speedily ran out of branches. There was no one logical, predictable path she could take based on his observations. He needed more information.

He began pacing, hesitating at the window and contemplating the full dark backdrop for a second.

The stars said nothing, did nothing.

Tonight it seemed as though they _were_ nothing, for all they could help him.

He thought back to an old story he often heard parents tell their children- that each star represented a departed soul.

An old familiar pain spouted up from somewhere, tingled in his throat, and departed as quickly. If that immaterial fantasy were proven true, what a great many would be tied to him. He would be dragging along millions of soul-stars behind him, fiery balloons on crimson threads, physical proof of the baggage of people he had known, used, manipulated.

This hero-girl, wasn't she just another small star (perhaps even a small planet unto itself, uninhabitable to others, but a just-right capsule for her)? Another person whom fate had attached to him.

Now, what would become of her in relation to him? Surely the reason he couldn't observe the outcome or even deduce her path was because she was going to relate to one of the MASCA members. The Wizard was physically quite unable to access the futures of any other magical creature, or anything or anyone that would relate to that. He was unable even to determine the exact member with clarity. Time and again, he obtained a colourless shape only, an inconsistent, pale ghost humped over and clouded by the ether of the dream-plane.

* * *

It was difficult for her to breathe around the massive lump in her throat. What had she agreed to that was so important to those people, that woman in black with the sultry eyes and the empty head, and the ponderous man with the braid and cloak? What was it that they expected of her?

She was not quite present, not fully settled into her skin that morning, after Wizard had laboured long and hard to deconstruct her destiny and failed, subsequent to the kidnapping (or strategic surprise business meeting).

It was a placidly cloudy day, a Tuesday set aside almost religiously for chores. Hikari had arrived later than normal to the supermarket, and was perusing poultry and peppers sullenly. The produce was battered, the herbs a dejected and limp brown with the beginnings of rot.

And, minding her own business, in fact, rather mostly absorbed in it -as people who are in accidents often are- the elbow of her jacket was grasped by an acquaintance, Candace.

She was a gifted tailor but almost certainly destined to be a spinster, with a careful, fumbling demeanour that matched her practical clothes and hairstyle, a limp twin-braid affair with bangs. The two chatted amid the shoppers and old unsellable vegetables. Her sister (free, impulsive, and the very textbook Definition of youthful carelessness) was pining away in a new flame involving the mayor's son, an uptight, supercilious fellow who could never quite mash down his stubborn blond cowlick, and whose sizeable income could not be determined with definite accuracy.

Then Candace herself had recently sent away a manuscript to be published- not for the fame, mind you, but for the mere warm joy in knowing that someone knew her name, had deemed her work worthy enough to purchase.

She was one of those siblings who is completely overshadowed and overtaken by the other. Likely her ventures were part of a longing that Hikari knew to be typical of her, a longing for recognition as a separate entity, rather than 'that one girl's sister'. There must have been some wicked sibling inadequacy that had left in her a still-roiling desire to prove herself.

Their chat diminished to an awkward comment every now and again, and with a promise to look for the book when it made its untimely debut (any debut that was not immediate was untimely, according to Candace), Hikari continued her mission. The store was becoming unbearably stuffy, and the chat had been enough to distract her a little from her worries. Besides, she found housework to be comfortingly tedious, like a pale-painted childhood room on a rainy Saturday.

Boring.

Average.

Safe.

What had she been thinking? They had probably been some kind of group for frustrated, ousted business advertisers or something. There were going to be weirdos everywhere, she reasoned blithely, and they would constantly be menacing the more normal population. That was all.

* * *

The witch had been doing some shopping of her own, albeit for something rather different from Hikari's boring groceries indeed.

She was doing a little recon, a particular favourite of hers that she hadn't partaken of since her days training under Master.

She sat on a park bench, sweating under a heavy and complicated spell to alter her appearance without detection. To passersby and to her target as well, she appeared as a young girl, and kept her phone out to complete the look, set to record.

A harvest sprite chattered with another animatedly, flailing their buglike arms and sending errant cascades of light into the noon air. The sky was an unbroken, solid grey, and rain spattered hesitantly in short, gentle bursts before ceasing altogether.

The harvest sprites were notorious gossips, though frail, tiny and magically weak, knew everyone and everything at all times.

There weren't many magical creatures to speak to that could be trusted to either faithfully take a side and stick to that side, or to get involved at all. Many were just simply not smart enough to keep their mouths shut and their ears open. The two sprites were dissecting an earlier conversation they had had with the Harvest Goddess. Though they served more-or-less as her indentured servants, the sprites and the Goddess were very close. She was seen as more of a goddess to them than she ever was in the eyes of humans. The more developed magical creatures saw her as a boss, a friend, a figure of mild authority.

They turned their mutant-sized heads close to each other and yapped away, the occasional stream of tears dripping from their huge, vapid black eyes.

" ...She knows it too, isn't that awful?!"

"Yes! I think she better do something quick, because if she... _dies_, we _know _who'll be next in line."

"Harvest King! ... But he- I don't..."

"Wizard is..."

They had trailed off and floated on, pausing for a hug break on a tree branch.

Perfect. Suspects.

And although she doubted Wizard would accept the spot in the limelight, let alone fight (or kill) for the privilege, it would be fun to tease him about it later, at least.

Granted, MASCA was a relatively small, close-knit group, and conflict this early in the game, even a light schism, would begin to tear apart the fragile loyalty to the group as a whole. If they could pit them against one another or unite them against one member, she could certainly very easily find the culprit who was plotting to steal the Goddess' powers for themselves when she finally kicked the bucket. Someone had to take it. Her power would not die with her. She would likely become like a punctured bottle, where the fluid it once contained would leak out for the ground to absorb.

Would it be a matter of preventing the suspect from obtaining such a sphere of influence in the group, or something altogether Messier? Wizard would know. She'd ask him.

* * *

Thanks again, sorry for the break, etc. etc.

No promises this time. None. I write when the mood takes me, but it doesn't take me often. Review if you want.


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